


Where the Naked Ladies Dance

by charlotteschaos



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, Bottom Draco, M/M, Post - Deathly Hallows, Top Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-16 18:39:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1357819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlotteschaos/pseuds/charlotteschaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alone with Ginny after so many years once the children are away at school, Harry discovers that there's more to himself than he thought, and more to Draco too. Anal,Bi,COMPLETE,M/M</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where the Naked Ladies Dance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [emmagrant01](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmagrant01/gifts).



In the years since the war, Harry rarely saw Draco Malfoy anymore. Not much aside from the platform at 9 3/4 and the Ministry-sponsored Yule Galas and Spring Formals. Malfoy had taken the helm of his father's legacy, taking up governorships, talking to important people and otherwise being insufferably smug and ineffably charming in spite of how smarmy his reputation might be.  
  
At every event he stood tall, pale, buttoned up to the throat and remarkably self-possessed—nothing at all like the emotional, bratty child that challenged Harry at every turn. Draco Malfoy had grown up.  
  
For the most part, Malfoy would keep his distance from Harry at such events, giving only the same, solemn, singular nod to him. It acknowledged Harry's presence, and, Harry fancied that in its own way, Malfoy acknowledged some gratitude for Harry's heroics and testimony on his behalf.   
  
"Still obsessed with Malfoy!" said Ginny. She was wobbly on her feet, a bit too much elf bubbly, but not an embarrassing amount. Harry blushed slightly, realizing he had been staring.   
  
"I don't think he's up to any more evil, mate," said Ron, giving Harry a good-natured smack on the back. "Besides, take the night off. Kids are off in school, the night is still young and your wife is tipsy…"  
  
Harry smiled at Ginny, but she looked away and Harry tried not to sigh. Seeming to sense the awkwardness the suggestion had brought on, Hermione said cheerfully, "The decorations are just beautiful, aren't they?"  
  
Ginny responded with as much faux cheer as Harry could stomach and he found himself drowning out the noise of party patter watching Malfoy and Nott whispering to one another. Malfoy's wife sat off to the side, as distant as Ginny was to Harry and well into her cups. Nott stood far too close to Malfoy, looming over him, shaggy brown hair all but obscuring Malfoy's pointy face.   
  
Malfoy smirked and nodded, agreeing to whatever it was Nott had suggested, and the two glanced around, checking to see if anyone was looking. Catching Harry staring, Malfoy tilted his head to the side, then winked and puckered his lips into a kiss. Harry's stomach lurched and his spine tingled.   
  
"Oh,  _those_  two," Ron intoned to Harry as Hermione and Ginny chatted about their children and Hogwarts. "That's just something else about  _those_  Purebloods I'll never get."  
  
"What does that mean?" asked Harry. He sucked in his breath, willing his arousal to abate. He had a pretty good idea what that meant. He'd heard it all before.  
  
"You know, all-boys dorms… fagging," said Ron, his voice even lower than before.   
  
Nothing like that happened in their rooms that he knew of, but Harry had heard of it happening. Nott stroked Malfoy's cheek and Malfoy leered at him. They turned together in the direction of the loo. Malfoy's wife watched wistfully and took another long sip of her drink.   
  
Harry felt his erection straining in his pants and closed his eyes, concentrating on family, his wife, the life that he'd built that he didn't want to lose. After a few deep breaths, the imagined sighs and echoes of hard slapping flesh sounds faded from his imagination, and he was back in the present.   
  
"We should head home, Ginny," said Harry, catching his breath and suppressing his want. "Big day tomorrow."  
  
It wasn't true, but Ginny had sense enough to know when it was time to go, and she straightened her red satin robes, pressing them down smoothly as Harry said his goodbyes. She followed with gracious handshakes and waves, not once looking at Harry, and she followed him out the door.  
  
__  
  
In the dead of night, there is a parlor that calls to men, men who are selected to hear the siren song, a subtle magic that calls and sings, luring the men from the beds of their wives and to a seedy part of London, a back alleyway between a burned out bookshop and a boarded up cafe. Underneath were the denizens of sin, a cornucopia of earthly and unearthly delights. Or, at least this was what the song promised.  
  
In reality, it was a long, dark hallway with circle-windowed doors behind which copulation took place on antiseptic tables. Couplings were mundane heterosexual encounters to dangerous liaisons between centaurs and men. At the end of the hall there was a door cracked open, sliver of light peeking through.   
  
Harry heard his breath over the slapping sounds and gasped breathing. His heart thrummed with fear and arousal for what he might happen upon.  
  
Billowing from the room was a thick, purple cloud. It smelled sickly sweet shot through with the acrid scent of come and sweat and far less savory aromas.   
  
Screwing up his courage, Harry peeked around the door.  
  
The room was dark but for one swinging lamp over a table bed, almost like the sort that Harry had seen in proper Muggle hospitals. Standing in front of the bed, wearing only a blindfold, was a young man, his hips snapping forward mechanically, regularly, causing the man he was pushing into to grunt, his face obscured by a mass of silky white hair that cascaded over his face.  
  
Harry could tell by hair alone whose glistening body he was looking at, but for the moment, he chose to ignore that fact, instead taking advantage of the fact that Malfoy's eyes were closed, and the young man sawing into him like he wanted to rip Malfoy in half couldn't see him anyway.  
  
Harry pushed his palm over the front of his trousers, trying to breathe as quietly as he could, not wanting to interrupt the proceedings, but feeling a definite urge to touch himself.   
  
Draco Malfoy, a queer. A queer in a brothel. If Harry hadn't signed a binding magical contract to prevent him from spilling what he knew, he'd want to tell Ron. But then, even if he hadn't signed it, Ron's next question would be how it was that Harry knew, and that wasn't a question Harry cared to answer.  
  
All Harry could look at was Draco's purpling, well-oiled prick as it moved through his long, pale fingers. Did he want this? Was this who he was now?  
  
Since the children had left for Hogwarts, Harry and Ginny were left alone an awful lot--something he'd once longed for but now sought any reason to avoid.  
  
It had been so long since he last felt something like lust that he couldn't remember. Sometimes Ginny was in the mood for a shag, but not often. They had little motivation to work at it when the kids weren't there to care.  
  
They didn't even fight anymore. Whatever it had been, it was nothing now. Now it was waking up in the middle of the night to follow that elusive tune to its source:  
  
 _There's a place in France where the naked ladies dance.  
There's a hole in the wall where the men can see it all.  
The way they shake is enough to kill a snake._  
  
Harry was caught out of his pondering with Draco's eyes on him, a long tube that looked like a hook attached to his mouth. When Draco drew his hand back again, he waited a beat and then let the smoke out of his lungs, watching it twist skyward, as if he could follow.   
  
"I should, erm…" started Harry as he backed away from Draco and the strange faceless boy.   
  
"You should come over and touch my cock," said Draco, reaching out a lazy hand, his drawl almost purring over his glistening body.  
  
Harry wasn't sure how he felt about touching another man's cock, but it was so exciting. This was the last thing in the world he should be doing with the last person in the world he should be doing it with. He was an Auror, and he never liked Malfoy much. Yet, Harry had his trousers open already and was pulling on himself at the mere sight of Draco up on that black piece of medical equipment, writhing over his green and gold dragon robes, one leg up in a stirrup and the other down, hooked around it at the knee to keep his legs spread wide open.   
  
Deciding that he might as well, Harry closed the distance between them and slid his fingers under Draco's, pulling his cock as some random man fucked him. Draco was moaning, arching his back and grabbing Harry tightly. All Harry could do was marvel at the soft, velvety feel of Draco's cock, the way it bent, how it was different than his—probably about the same width and length, but that it just seemed to have more skin, and curved in another direction.   
  
Still, Harry couldn't take his hands off of it. The head was wet and shiny each time it pushed through his fist, and Harry stared at it with great longing.   
  
There was a clank from the stirrup as Draco pulled his leg from it and laid the flat of his foot on the man's chest. "You're done," he said to the blindfolded man. "Get out."  
  
The man hesitated, his posture a question of how to proceed, but then he pulled out of Draco and pushed his blindfold up enough to see his way out.   
  
Turning his attention to Harry, Draco whispered, "Fuck me."  
  
Harry inhaled sharply, hand stilling on Malfoy's cock. Flexing his jaw a few times, he turned his head so that he could see the pucker of Malfoy's hole, seeing right to the meat of him, down the light hair on his balls, the dark promise of his fissure, and the way that it flexed. It was beckoning to Harry.   
  
As much as Harry had intended to say that he wasn't ready to go this far, his hands were on his trousers, and he had them down to his ankles as he took up the position of the man with the blindfold. Draco hissed when Harry entered him, but all Harry could think about was how hot and tight Draco's arsehole was, how it was moist from being fucked, even his insides were well-oiled, well-preserved.   
  
It felt miraculous and Harry didn't want it to end. He wasn't sure how many months it had been since Ginny had deigned to touch him and now he was sunk deep into Draco Malfoy. For seemingly no reason at all except that it felt dirty, wrong and bad to do it, even being here was an act of rebellion for the life he'd accepted.   
  
But now, he was pushing into Draco, leaning down over him to kiss his neck.  
  
"Potter, are you making love to me?" asked Draco.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Are you making love to me, or are you going to fuck me already?" asked Draco. He grabbed Harry's arse and pushed him harder into him, taking him all the way to the balls. Draco winced at that, but sat up on his elbows, flexing his abdomen to fuck him back. "Yes… yes, more like that."  
  
Harry was hardly in a position to argue. All he could think about was not coming too soon, to make this last. He wasn't sure when he'd ever given himself permission like this before; he felt like it should count. He thrust madly into Draco, giving him everything that he had-- all of the anger and distress and confusion, the weirdness of this night, how lost he felt without his kids, having no buffer between him and Ginny.   
  
Draco sat up, wrapping his arms tightly around Harry, fucking him back for all he was worth. Their bodies were compressed so tightly that it was hard to breathe, and yet, they were moving as one, eliciting moans and sighs out of Harry that he had never felt before. He'd never been held this powerfully, never been inside of another man, never touched a cock besides his own. It was thrilling and scary and Harry was going to come far too soon.  
  
Shortly after, Draco followed, melting like dead weight against Harry's chest. Harry clung to him feeling the revelation of what he'd just done washing over him in waves of shock, horror and residual arousal.   
  
He'd just fucked someone who wasn't his wife. He'd just fucked a man. He'd just fucked Draco Malfoy, once his sworn enemy, and all he could really do was dumbly hold him, pulse racing with excitement tinged with horror.  
  
After a few minutes, Draco caught his breath and pushed away from Harry, rolling back onto the table. Again, Draco was sprawled out in front of him; body spread out and sated now, wisps of hair clinging to his forehead. His skin goose-fleshed from the wet contact with the cooler air, and he groaned, pushing the sweat from his brow with a delicate hand.  
  
Harry wiped his sodden hand off on the table before reaching for his trousers, not really sure what else to do, but he felt clumsy and awkward standing there with his dick out, although Draco was still laying there without even the grace to blush at his spread, bruised thighs, looking thoroughly debauched.   
  
Finally, Draco sat up on his elbows, glanced lazily around and pulled his robe around him. He squinted at Harry for a moment and then laughed with a snort. "Is that really you, Potter?"  
  
"Yeah… who else would it be?" asked Harry. He brushed his hand through his hair, feeling the heel of his palm brush over his forehead. It had been over a decade since his scar last burned; since he'd really felt the urge to try and cover it, but something about what Draco said made him feel the need to prove himself to be himself.   
  
"Hah! I thought it might be a hallucination," said Draco as he swung his legs over the table and hopped off neatly. He padded to the corner of the small, dark room where his dark robes were hanging on a hook against the wall.   
  
"I guess that answers the question of why you wanted me to fuck you," said Harry, not sure if he was let down or relieved. He still couldn't quite believe he'd done it. He'd been inside of Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy was putting on his clothes, bending over with his arse red because of him.   
  
"Leaves the question of what you're doing here open, but I'm hardly in a position to judge," said Draco. He buttoned his robe up to the collar, looking primly like a vicar but for his mussed hair. He tended to that by smoothing his hand over it and then tying it with a black velvet bow.  
  
"I don't know why I'm here. I guess I just…" started Harry.  
  
"Wanted to fuck a bloke?" asked Draco.  
  
"What? No! I…" said Harry, feeling out of his depth with Draco's steely gaze on him. He blushed brightly. "I don't know why I came here."  
  
"Given what the establishment is… I'd say there's a fairly obvious reason why you came here," said Draco. He pulled a small velvet pouch from his pocket and laid a few Galleons down on the counter and then smirked at Harry. "I should make you pay a portion of this."  
  
"I… you… you were paying for… that…" Harry gestured to the door where the man had exited.   
  
Draco set his jaw and lifted his chin proudly. "I was paying for him to leave, not to fuck me. I'm starting to see the wisdom in that position now."  
  
Even though Harry understood the implied insult, he was far too shocked by Draco paying to be fucked to bother with being offended. "You pay for sex? To let some guy put his prick in you? Why would you do that?"  
  
"Because my wife doesn't have a prick?" Draco offered, shrugging.   
  
Harry wasn't sure if he was kidding or not, and he just stood there staring at Draco in shock. He thought of Draco's wife drinking too much, and he thought again of the whispers and lascivious looks that passed between Draco and Theodore Nott. "You like being fucked," said Harry.  
  
"Nothing gets past you, does it, Potter?" asked Draco. He started towards the door.   
  
"But you have a wife… you married a woman…" said Harry, following Draco out and down the hall.  
  
"I am again astounded by your observation of the obvious. But I take the point that you find this a contradiction. Allow me to point out that you are just as married as I am and that did not stop you from plugging my hole."  
  
"But… but why did you marry a woman if you like men?" asked Harry, trying to hurry to stop Draco before he got to the door, wanting to hear this answer. Maybe it would help him understand.  
  
Draco stopped and looked coldly at Harry for a moment. "I don't suppose I ever gave that much thought. I reached a certain age and it was appropriate to get married, so I did."  
  
Harry felt something lurch in his stomach, a sort of familiarity at the situation. Had he thought about whether or not he truly wanted to get married? Whether he truly wanted to start a family? Everyone was getting married, and he was still seeing Ginny. He'd never given it much thought. It had never been a consideration that he wouldn't. "Oh."  
  
"Oh, indeed," said Draco. He pushed on the door to open it to the slightly chilled night wind.   
  
"Do you love her?" asked Harry, not sure what possessed him to ask such a question, except that it suddenly seemed very important.  
  
"Of course I do. She's my wife," said Draco, crossing his arms and leaning against the door. He looked outside briefly and then turned his attention back on Harry.  
  
"Are you in love with her?" asked Harry. He wondered what he would answer if Draco asked back.  
  
Draco stared at Harry for a moment and then shook his head. "Never been in love. Not sure I believe in it. Now, if that's all, I have a bed to sneak back into, and I do believe you do as well."  
  
It was hard to feel anything but incredibly sad for Draco, and in turn, sad for himself. He nodded and said, "Yeah. I do. I should um…"  
  
"You're not going to try to kiss me goodnight, are you?" asked Draco. He was smirking in that unnerving way, but Harry fancied that he saw something like hope in his eyes.  
  
"Erm…" Harry leaned in awkwardly to kiss him and Draco rolled his eyes and gave him a peck.   
  
"See you around, Potter," said Draco as he stepped away into the swirling wind. He pulled his wand and Disapparated from the spot.  
  
"Yeah, see you around, Malfoy."  
  
\--  
  
As it turned out, Harry did not see Draco around at all. He came by the brothel several times, but never caught Draco there. He didn't rent any of the boys or girls that were offered and eventually stopped going, deciding that whatever spirit moved Draco to going to such a place must've been more rare than he was led to believe.  
  
He didn't see Draco again until a couple of months later. Harry dressed carefully for the gala knowing that it was likely that Draco would be there. Normally, he would not go to more Ministry functions than were strictly necessary for work, but he'd heard through the grapevine that the Malfoys planned to attend.   
  
Ginny seemed thrilled with the notion of getting dressed up and going out again. His conversations with her had been as strained as ever, and they had settled into a comfortable silence and avoidance. Harry remembered fondly how easy she'd once been to talk to. Now it seemed as if they had run out of things to say. She knew all of his stories and he all of hers. When he spoke of work she got a blank look in her eye, and though she asked polite questions to keep him talking, it was plain that he bored her.   
  
In return, he didn't much care for the gossip about her friends, to know who was sleeping with whom or why. He didn't care about the shows that Ginny watched or what new project she was throwing herself into to alleviate the tedium of having an empty nest.   
  
She was chirping on about possibly taking a job coaching a girl's junior Quidditch league when Harry caught sight of Draco across the room. His wife was on his arm and he was gliding smoothly towards a table to sit her down, checking his watch.  
  
The gala was set up in white and silver, a late winter affair with silver goblets and radiant crystal. The walls were decked in white and fairy lights dripping down in long strings. There were large, round tables with serpent lily centerpieces, lit with floating candles. In the middle of the room was a large dance floor surrounded by a small self-playing orchestra.   
  
Harry hoped Ginny didn't expect him to dance.  
  
Before she had a chance to ask, Harry watched Draco get up from the table he'd sat his wife down at and head towards the loo. Remembering the eager looks that Draco and Theo had worn at the prospect of going to the loo made Harry curious as to what went on there. He hoped it was something like the brothels.  
  
After making his excuses, Harry crossed the large hall, making a beeline for the bathrooms. The inside was huge, again larger than what he might've predicted from the outside, which had been a door that appeared to lead to nothing more extraordinary than a water closet. What he found inside was radiant in black and marble tiles that scored across the floors and brass washbasins held up by erumpent snouts. There was a seemingly endless wall of stalls, presumably to facilitate the needs of as many wizards as might need to go. Past the sinks was a row of urinals, all glossy and black with brass fittings and a long mirror.  
  
Draco stood before the third urinal, robe hiked up to reveal trousers underneath and shiny leather shoes that looked so moist and soft that Harry could've sworn he saw them breathe.  
  
His pulse raced as he stood there listening to the soft thump and click of the door shutting behind him. For a mad moment, he thought about the last time he was in the loo with Draco. He remembered the tears and gaunt face and the look of horror when he realized Harry had moved faster. Beyond that, all he could remember was the blood and the fear that he might've finally brought their rivalry to an end.   
  
Just as he was starting to think that being here perhaps wasn't such a brilliant idea after all, Draco turned and brushed an interfering lock of his white blond hair from his face. It had fallen from the bow that kept his plaited hair back. There was just enough of it that Harry wondered if it hadn't been artfully held back to give Draco something to play with when he felt coy.  
  
"Potter," said Draco, looking at him straight on, the top of his head reflected in the mirror.   
  
Harry swallowed and nodded, unconsciously sliding his hand into his pocket to finger his wand, not sure how this meeting would go.   
  
Draco turned and then laughed at Harry's soft gasp of shock. Draco had not put his prick away, and it sat there under gathered black material looking lewd and wrong sticking out there like that. It was vulgar and Harry wanted nothing more than to touch it.   
  
Reaching back, Harry grabbed for the door and Draco rolled his eyes and took him by the hand into a bathroom stall. He sat Harry down on the toilet seat and closed the door behind him. Shimmying his trousers down to his ankles, he expertly pulled one leg out and straddled Harry, standing over him. Draco reached across Harry to the marble wall behind him, leaning his weight on that one hand as the other held his cock up, trying to feed it into Harry's lips.   
  
Again it was all happening so fast, too fast. They hadn't talked, and yet, Harry was afraid to turn it down lest he never be offered it again. Each of these instances had been random, but he still felt compelled to at least say something. He licked his lips and by virtue of proximity, the tip of Draco's cock. It tasted salty and sweet-- flavored with an odd tang of Draco. His flavor was colored by Draco's expensive cologne that wafted off of his body as he moved, washing over Harry in waves of spicy fragrance.   
  
Harry wanted to say something, wanted to stop him, but the tip of Draco's prick was so insistent against his lips, Draco teasing with the tip of it like it was applying lip gloss rather than smearing him with pre-come. Groaning, Harry opened his mouth, planning on speaking at first, but instead he sucked him into his mouth, slowly letting Draco's length slide into him. He swirled his tongue enthusiastically around Draco's cock, wanting to feel every ridge, every spot, to make Draco moan and whimper with neediness to make him stay, to make him want Harry as much as Harry wanted him.  
  
Wrapping his arms around Draco's waist, he started to slide his fingers down his back, grabbing Draco's cheeks and moving them in circles against one another, kneading the flesh as he sucked and kissed his cock.  
  
Harry hadn't felt anything this immense before, never had this sort of joy when he kissed Ginny's cunt. Not that she had a bad cunt or a wrong cunt, as far as he knew. But this, this was something totally different. Draco's prick filled him, aroused him, made him want to keep sucking and sucking until Draco cried out. He wet his fingers in his mouth, breaking from Draco's cock. He looked up at Draco's face, which was contorted in edgy pleasure, waiting for Harry to get on with it, to keep sucking him.  
  
Harry did so, leaning in to pull Draco's cock into his mouth as he spread his fingers inside of Draco, moaning at the warmth of him, the strange dryness, so different from a cunt, yet still it was incredibly exciting.   
  
Draco rested his hand on top of Harry's head and kept him still as he started to rock his hips, moving for Harry, taking a proper speed, but never going too deeply into him so that he'd gag. All Harry could do was finger fuck him and suck him and look up at Draco's shiny face, the way his cheeks blushed, how his chest rose and fell as he breathed through his mouth.   
  
Harry heard people coming and going in the bathroom, knew that they were there, but they had no idea. Every stall was soundproofed in order to maintain privacy, but it was still exciting to think that they were out there. Men who came in for a piss who had no idea that two blokes a mere few feet away were sucking each other off. Harry Potter, no less. Harry smiled inwardly, wondering what everyone would think if they knew he was doing this, if they knew how much he wanted to do this.   
  
He wriggled his finger against something hard in Draco that elicited a strangled moan from him. Harry pushed at that spot again and again, feeling how frantic Draco was to get off and loving how Draco was grabbing his hair and huffing loudly. After a few more wild thrusts into Harry's mouth, Draco was warning him about coming and Harry kept his arms locked around him, letting Draco know it was all right to come in his mouth.   
  
Harry tried to swallow it all, but felt it oozing back out of the corners of his mouth and running down his throat. He was just wondering how he was going to explain come stains to his wife when Draco sat on his lap, straddling him. Harry reached for the tissue paper, but Draco knocked his hand away and grabbed him by the throat.  
  
As hard as that grab was, the way that Draco licked and kissed the come from Harry's chin and mouth was delicate. Worshipful. Sweet. All Harry could do was stare at him through his foggy glasses until Draco set them aside, leaving them on top of the toilet paper dispenser.   
  
"I… where have you been?" asked Harry. He looked down to see Draco unfastening Harry's trousers quickly, pushing his robe aside as he fished Harry's prick out of his boxers. Harry hadn't even thought that he could get that hard, but there he was, huge and horny for Draco Malfoy, who was sitting in his lap, looking imperious in spite of how debauched he was.   
  
"In your mouth, obviously," said Draco, sneering a little until his face contorted with the first shock of pain.   
  
Harry groaned and his head fell back as Draco sat on him, feeling his muscles relax inch by inch to accommodate him. He shuddered in pleasure, basking in it before he had to get back to trying to be coherent. "No… I mean… at the… place."  
  
Draco's face was the portrait of pained confusion until realization dawned on him and he rolled his eyes. "I told you, that was just sometimes. But I'm sure there were loads of people there to slake your lusts, Potter. Most of them younger and possibly prettier than me."  
  
"What?" asked Harry. In all of the possibilities of having this conversation, it had never occurred to Harry that Draco might think someone else was prettier than he was. "No, I didn't… not with anyone. I was waiting for you!"  
  
For a moment, Harry wasn't sure if he'd said a good or a bad thing. Draco just stared at him, his head tilted, and there was a slight and sad glimmer to his eyes that looked almost like hope. Then he shut down again and shrugged. "It's worth the trade if you can afford it, and I'm sure you can."  
  
"I wasn't there for that, I was there for…" Harry trailed off, realizing what he was saying. He sounded like a lovelorn teenager. It was making him nauseated.  
  
"There for me, Potter? Well, there's a novel idea," said Draco. His head was tilted down, hands on Harry's shoulders as he came down hard and fast like clapping on top of him. He was wincing a bit, but Harry thought he saw tears in Draco's eyes and on impulse, he cupped Draco's face and kissed him wildly, wanting to feel that, feel him, feel that deep, immense, consuming loneliness, wanting to feel Draco, to know him by being inside of him, connected by prick and tongue, invading him and making him give up all of his secrets.  
  
Harry was clinging to Draco when he came, fucking him so hard that his thighs felt bruised and his calf muscles burned from the effort. He'd felt out of his body when he came, elated beyond what he'd experienced. He clung to Draco, refusing to let him go as he panted and sighed, chin tucked on his shoulder.   
  
Hesitantly, Draco folded against him for a few moments, pressing soft kisses along Harry's hairline.   
  
After a few minutes of stroking Draco's hair and being held and feeling so cuddly and warm, Draco finally stood up. He caressed Harry's cheek and kissed him again before wiping himself off and tossing the used tissues in the bin. He pulled up his trousers and smiled at Harry.  
  
"These things you do, you just do them because they're fun?" asked Harry as he righted himself.  
  
Draco leaned against the side marble wall and nodded with a slight shrug.   
  
"So, you've really never been in love, ever?" asked Harry, wondering if he could believe that from a man who kissed like that.  
  
Draco's jaw tightened and flexed a few times as he considered Harry and then finally, he said, "I was in love. Once. But he had other priorities. It's not worth all of that pain."  
  
Harry stared and then nodded sadly. "I love the world, I love my friends, I love the opportunities I've had and I love my children, but I don't think I've ever been in love before."  
  
Opening the door, Draco smiled over his shoulder. "You always were the lucky one," he said casually before slipping away, leaving Harry to stare at the empty space he'd occupied.   
  
Lucky.  
  
Sure.  
  
\--  
  
The next night, Harry decided to try his luck at the club again. Draco had seemed surprised that Harry had gone back again and again, and he wondered if perhaps he'd visit. Not finding him, Harry left after a couple of hours, but went back the next night and the next. He started to learn the patterns of the patrons; the wild-eyed look of a man on his first visit, the almost bored look of the frequent visitor. Some people came in with packages; some came in with nothing at all. No one looked in anyone's eyes and most seemed put out by Harry's hopeful look each time the door opened.  
  
He'd been doing this for a week before Harry decided that Draco wasn't going to come back. His stomach tightened with the certainty of that thought. No matter what he might've thought was going on, he was wrong.   
  
Peering around the corridor, looking into the doors, he wondered if he could do it--if he could really just pick someone out and fuck them. The idea didn't fill him with the sort of thrill that Draco would, but his prick didn't seem to know the difference. The idea of being touched, being sucked was enough to get him hard, but Harry just wasn't sure he could do it.   
  
Down the hall, a door was open. Two men were fucking roughly, one pinned against the wall, bent over with his arms out for balance. His hair was dark and over his face so that Harry had no idea who he might be. The other man stood taller, his hair short, but he wasn't anyone that Harry had ever remembered seeing. They both appeared older than him and better fed. The man fucking the dark-haired man nodded to him and said, "You can watch."  
  
Harry stood in the doorway, unsure whether he should watch or not, not sure what this really meant. He didn't want to get in over his head, yet he was rather ready to get on with his life if that prat Malfoy wasn't going to show up again. He wondered what he'd meant that there was someone… a he… that he thought he'd loved before and he wondered if it wasn't Malfoy himself holding back, not showing up, being vague, dragging things out impossibly that lost whatever man that Malfoy was interested in.  
  
In the midst of his bitterness, he watched the fucking. His prick twitched in complaint at not being touched, and Harry pressed the heel of his hand over the front of his trousers, trying to be subtle about it, but his cock was starting to ache at the sound of their bodies coming together, the moans and whispers. If he closed his eyes, he could still see Malfoy lying there, purple smoke curling around his pale body, lasciviously stretched out and begging to be fucked.  
  
"Yeah, take it out," said the man from across the room. Harry ignored the rude tone, didn't open his eyes. He didn't want his fantasy to be ruined. He imagined Malfoy there, commanding him to take his cock out, wanting to see it, moving to his knees in front of Harry, watching the way that Harry stroked it.   
  
Harry palmed his prick out of his trousers, folding back his underpants so that he could fist it quickly, not being at all gentle with it. He couldn't imagine Malfoy being gentle with his cock if he was touching it. He leaned against the back wall, only half realizing that he was next to an open door, wanking in plain view from the hallway.   
  
He was getting close, so close to coming. Even his sense memory of Draco was getting stronger, like he could smell the thick sickly sweet of his opium and the lightness of his musk. He thought he could feel the brush of Malfoy's hair against his cheek and then the soft moistness of his lips.   
  
Lips?  
  
Opening his eyes, Harry found himself staring at a fuzzy cheek and then steely grey eyes gazing impassively back at him. He pushed the man back and gaped when he saw that it was Draco Malfoy. He was standing there fully dressed, hair pulled back into a loose pony tail, holding a long, thin silver cigarette holder with a kretek burning at the end.   
  
"You looked like you could use a hand," said Draco, holding up a gloved hand. He was still wearing a traveling cloak, but his hat was off. His hair was slightly askew, looking like he'd been hiding under something--perhaps a cloak of a different sort.   
  
"How long have you been here?" asked Harry, looking down nervously at his hand wrapped around his cock. It was painful to stop stroking it now, yet he knew his erection was going to wither at any moment. Except… that Draco was here and staring at it, too.  
  
"Thirty-eight years, give or take," said Draco as he bit the fingers of his glove and slipped his hand out from the supple leather in an elegant movement. He wrapped his fingers around the base of Harry's cock and said, "Don't come yet."  
  
"That's not what I meant," said Harry, sure that Draco was quite clear on what he meant, but unable to voice it with Draco's hand on his cock. He led him to the next room and then Draco pinned him against the dark wall after slamming the door. Each of the rooms looked the same; the cold table in the middle with the lamp shining down over it like an examination room, and the dark corners and slick linoleum tile.   
  
"I know," said Draco as he pulled at Harry's cock slowly. "I've been here all week."  
  
"What?" asked Harry, his mind spinning as much as it could with Draco doing what he was doing with his cock, feeling the roll of Draco's manicured thumb over the tip of his prick. "All week? Why?"  
  
"Watching to see if you were really faithful to me," said Draco. He fell to his knees in front of Harry and nuzzled his cock, rubbing it against his cheek adoringly. "And you were, but for some wanking you were doing in front of strangers. Dirty boy."  
  
Harry blushed; surprised he had enough blood to reach his cheeks with as hard as Draco was making him, smearing his pre-come all over his face. Part of him was angry for being left in doubt that whole time, but another part of him just wanted to enjoy this, to just have this, to let Draco behave as he would so long as he got his dick sucked now and then. It was a little like having two wives, only of late, Draco was putting out quite a bit more and didn't seem to want any jewelry.  
  
From him, anyway.  
  
"I don't want anyone else," said Harry truthfully. He hated himself for his earnestness, but he supposed if Draco had been watching him all week, he had to know that.   
  
Again Draco's eyes looked glassy, damp, and he averted his gaze and Draco said, "You want to fuck me."  
  
"I do," said Harry, but he was feeling frustrated that Draco didn't seem to be getting the point. "I want to fuck you and only you."  
  
Draco wouldn't meet Harry's eyes, but stretched out his tongue to drag it along Harry's cock. He stopped and smiled impishly, "Monogamous affairs. How very…" He turned his cigarette holder over and extinguished the kretek, setting it aside so he could concentrate on Harry's cock.  
  
In the interim, Harry had pulled his prick away and was pulling his underpants back over it, though it very much pained him to do.   
  
"What's that, then?" asked Draco, looking confused and just a little hurt that Harry was putting his cock away.   
  
"You're making fun of me, Malfoy. I don't find it particularly amusing. You string me along all week--watch me, make me jump through hoops all because I like you, in particular. It's unfair and it's rude, and I don't think I want you to suck my cock," said Harry, thinking those words sounded very, very wrong, and yet, the idea of letting Draco touch him like that after the way he'd behaved was starting to wither his erection, and he was glad that mind and body were finally coming to an agreement on this.  
  
Draco stood then and looked around, but they were in an empty room. There was no one to hear, no one to see this great conflict--no one to see that the great Draco Malfoy had been turned down for a blowjob.   
  
But more than that arrogant irritation that was always dancing on the edges of Draco's expression was an expression of bewildered hurt and then sorrow as he looked down at the floor. He was blinking rapidly and Harry wasn't sure what it could mean, exactly. Only that he felt compelled to reach out to Draco.  
  
He set his hand on Draco's shoulder, meaning to give him just a quick squeeze of reassurance, and Draco fled to him. Draco's arms wrapped tightly around him and his face tucked against Harry's neck. He could feel the slight wetness there, but there were no sobs. Just quiet crying. Harry wasn't sure what it meant.   
  
"It's all right, Malfoy. Really. I don't hate you," Harry said, trying to soothe him.  
  
"I don't know why I can't… why it's just so… I didn't think you cared. I didn't think it mattered and then you said you did and I just… I wanted to come up to you but I thought maybe you were… really waiting for someone else or something else. You never liked me. We never liked each other. I didn't… I couldn't believe it," said Draco, barely taking a moment to even breathe.  
  
Harry was overwhelmed, and he stroked Draco's back as he tried to sort that all out. "It's all right. It is. Just… maybe we should… let me take you out to dinner. We can go somewhere, yeah?"  
  
Draco pulled back and looked at Harry, discreetly blotting his eyes with a hankie. "Dinner could be something. They'd… all see you with me," he said softly.  
  
"What? Who would care?" asked Harry, in his usual, slightly oblivious way. "So they'll see us. It's just dinner. I don't plan to bend you over the table."  
  
Draco actually laughed, and Harry thought he had a rather nice laugh when it was sincere. Harry smiled at him and smoothed down Draco's hair. "Maybe I don't know if I want to go if you're not!"  
  
Harry cleared his throat and leaned in to kiss Draco's head.   
  
"You'd really be seen with me, Harry?" asked Draco, his voice small and sounding painfully plaintive and child-like. "Out in public?"  
  
Nodding, Harry wondered what manner of man Draco had been in love with before that having dinner was such a big deal, but he wasn't ready to know that. The past was the past, and he wasn't sure he'd want to know. "Yes, out in public is where the best restaurants are, I've found," said Harry.  
  
"All right. Thursday night, then?" asked Draco.  
  
"At eight. It's a date."  
  
\--  
  
Babylon at the Rooftop Gardens in Kensington had been more of a 90s Muggle hang-out, or so Harry had been informed not long after he'd arranged to meet Draco there. He'd heard about it when he was younger and always thought the idea of a fine meal on a rooftop garden sounded extraordinarily romantic, but he'd not thought about it until he was trying to figure out somewhere to take Draco. Now that he knew it was less hip than it once was, he was worried, but then, he supposed that this was Draco they were talking about, and it wasn't as if Draco kept up on Muggle trends.  
  
He hoped.  
  
As far as he was concerned, the restaurant was modern with hardwood floors, crisp linen tablecloths and a beautiful view of the gardens outside. There was a fire that crackled in the small hearth just behind him that took the edge off of the modern crystal and helped to soothe Harry's nerves. Draco had been a little strange about where they would meet and under what circumstances. Harry wondered if Draco would even show up at all.  
  
He ordered a glass of wine to try and take the edge off of his nerves and was only a couple of sips into it when he saw the flash of Draco's bright hair catching the light at the front of the long strip of restaurant, made to give every table the best view possible. Draco appeared lost and as if he were having a hard time hearing what the host was telling him, his expression slightly pained in the way adults can look towards children who are telling them unpleasant stories. His grey eyes moved past the host, and he caught sight of Harry.  
  
Harry was so used to seeing Draco in his usual drab couture that seeing him in a silvery cashmere sweater with charcoal wool trousers seemed suddenly light and airy for him. The low lights and flame light hit his face, turning what was usually pallid a soft gold and all Harry could do was stare for a moment. Draco flashed him a cocky grin and tilted his head to the side to indicate a gaggle of heiresses half his age giggling and gazing dreamily at him.   
  
"They're half your age," Harry sniffed as Draco sat down across from him.  
  
Draco flicked his hair back and looked so smug that Harry found himself wanting to slap him. "I've still got it."  
  
Harry picked up his menu and looked it over. "Have you? I'd've thought with all of your money, they might've found a cure for you by now."  
  
Kicking back, Draco nodded to the server and pointed at Harry's glass and indicated he wanted one. After a beat, he leaned forward to grab Harry's wine glass, gave it a sniff, and then asked for a wine list instead. "Is that why you invited me here? Were you hoping that there was some sort of… injection… you might get to cure you of me?"  
  
It was difficult not to laugh at Draco's antics. Harry took his wine glass back from Draco, gave him a look, and took a sip of it. There was nothing wrong with a good merlot as far as Harry was concerned, but it probably didn't have the cachet of the Rioja that Draco ordered instead. Harry tried not to care about that, or care that he'd invited Draco to a slightly-less-than-trendy restaurant. "From what I recall, I've been the one giving the injections. Are you considering a change to market as a cure-all?"  
  
Leaning in, Draco smirked devilishly. "My prick as a panacea has its merits."  
  
"I'm sure it does," said Harry, sitting back as the server arrived to pour Draco his wine. "But that's not why I invited you here."  
  
The mask of Draco's bravado slipped, and Harry thought 'I've got you now.' But as quickly as it came, it went, and Draco swilled his wine and looked into the dark depths of the glass and asked, "Then why did you invite me here?"  
  
"I wanted to get to know you," said Harry. He thought that had been clear from the start, but perhaps Draco was so jaded that he couldn't quite contain that thought.  
  
"We've known each other our whole lives," said Draco, his face darkening before he took another long sip of his wine.   
  
"I didn't know that you liked…" Draco shot Harry a warning look and then glanced around the restaurant nervously. Harry nodded. "The point is, we never really talked much before. Or lately."  
  
"That is likely because I didn't much care for you, and you made it rather plain that you didn't care for me from the start," said Draco. He sat up and tapped the edge of the crystal for another pour of the wine.  
  
Harry was alarmed by the alcohol consumption, but then, he wondered if perhaps Draco wasn't just nervous. He thought about how vulnerable he'd looked at the notion of going out together. He wondered if he'd have to break Draco down to open up to him every time they met. "I think I've done a pretty good job lately of letting you know that I like you a little bit," Harry said gently, leaning in and reaching his hand out.  
  
Draco looked around the room again and then stared at Harry's hand as if it were an unwelcome rodent. Harry felt a bit out on a limb like this, and he thought about Draco's hand outstretched to him on the train and how he'd turned his back on him. He didn't regret that choice in the least. The way Draco was then and given all he'd been through with his friends, it was the right choice. But now, Harry appreciated a little better how it felt to put himself on the line for someone and the fear that it wouldn't be returned.   
  
Setting his wine glass down near Harry's hand, Draco flicked his fingertips over Harry's palm and then folded his hands politely on his lap and looked around the restaurant again. Harry smiled and nodded his understanding, relieved that he hadn't been completely blown off. Draco ordered the special and advised Harry that in any fine restaurant it was best to order the special, as it was likely to be what the chef put his heart and soul into and would have the best ingredients. He lectured Harry about the proper wine and explained the history of cutlery and table manners, taking it back to medieval times when enemy houses would come together to share a meal and all possible weapons were meant to be handled above board.  
  
Normally, lectures put Harry off, but Draco just seemed to glow as he spoke, explaining with a bit of his usual haughty demeanor, but with an exuberance that Harry thought perhaps came of having freshly explained such things to his son. For the first time, he really thought Draco must be a good father. Perhaps he'd be a bit overbearing or expect a little much of his son, but Draco had an enthusiasm and a passion and a reason for everything he did and Harry found himself captivated.  
  
Better still, the more he spoke, the less he drank and Harry watched as the haze lifted from Draco, and he looked bright and happy in a way that he'd never seen. There was a light in his eyes that for once wasn't a vicious glimmer, but sincere pleasure. Harry tried to catch the check when it came, but Draco was quicker and to Harry's surprise, he had a Muggle credit card.   
  
"What, do you think I'd remain completely ignorant of this bold new world?" asked Draco as he looked outside, squinting at something Harry couldn't see. Then he leaned in again and said, "Bet we could get up to something out there. It's rather dark… there are some bushes just…"   
  
Draco was pointing and Harry was blushing and clearing his throat. "I thought… maybe… this could just be… a date," said Harry.  
  
Giving him a wary, confused look, Draco said, "You don't… like me anymore?"  
  
"No, no, no! I lo-like you a lot!" said Harry, trying not to think too hard about that slip. It was far too soon for that, and really, he had no idea where he was going with this or what he was doing. "I want to see you again. I just want to get to know you."  
  
"I'm not a girl, Potter. You don't have to…" said Draco as he took the check back from the server and signed his name with the flourish of an implied quill in his hand.  
  
"I know you're not a… I just… I really like you. I promise we can… next time, all right? I just don't want you to think that's the only reason why I want to see you," said Harry.  
  
Draco stood and pocketed his card and gave Harry a guarded look.   
  
"I really want to get to know you. I want to know what this is. I… it's got to be about more than sex, doesn't it?" asked Harry.  
  
Something in Draco flickered with hope, and he shut down again. "No, it doesn't have to be anything."  
  
Somebody had hurt Draco. They'd hurt him badly. Harry wondered if he wasn't just setting himself up to be hurt the same way. "Maybe not, but if you want me to fuck you again, you'll come on another date with me."  
  
Draco looked very much like he wanted to say something to Harry, but his lips formed nonsense words until he clamped his mouth shut. "Fine," he said, eyeing Harry with suspicion. "But you'd better fuck me next time. I'm not here for the conversation."  
  
Harry stood and faced Draco down, staring at him impassively until Draco balked and finally turned to leave, muttering to himself.   
  
After he was gone, Harry grinned. He hadn't said 'no.'  
  
\--  
  
"Oh Harry!" Ginny enthused. She was flushed with an excited glow, her hair still damp from an early morning shower. She was still in her pink dressing gown and pink slippers and clutching the  _Daily Prophet_  in her hand. "This is just so great, you have to read it!"  
  
It was far too much zeal for Harry before he'd had his first cuppa. He was only a shower and a shave into the day, still not completely into his Auror robes. Squinting at her, he tried to suss out what it was she was on about, but gave up quickly. "Yeah?"  
  
She huffed at his disinterest, but didn't hold that grudge for long. "There was a  _Wizard_  brothel in London! It's been raided by the Ministry!"  
  
Harry's eyes widened. He had no idea that it was under investigation, which was rather alarming, because he was head of the department. He remembered the contract he'd signed to keep it quiet, but obviously someone somehow found their way around it. His stomach tightened with guilt and anxiety, but Ginny wouldn't be so pleased if he'd been implicated. Would she? "Really?"  
  
"Yes, loads of filthy perverts rounded up, but that's not the best part!" she said, elated.  
  
Dread filled Harry's lungs. "What's the best part?" he breathed.  
  
"Malfoy's been implicated!" said Ginny, barely able to contain her glee. She looked at Harry as if she expected him to join in on her giddiness.  
  
Instead, Harry felt nauseated, worse than when he thought he'd been caught. "Was he... there?" he asked, crushed.  
  
"Oh, erm..." she said, looking at the paper again. "No, he wasn't there. It was just part of a deal the owners made to out some of their high profile clients."  
  
Somehow, the notion of possibly being sold out was less daunting than the idea of Draco being serviced in that dive again. He'd hoped that Draco wasn't going there anymore; he certainly hadn't seen him go there in a long while, but he'd never been sure. He still wasn't positive. "Oh."  
  
"Isn't it great?" asked Ginny. She was perplexed by his response, it was written all over her face. She reached out to touch Harry's hand, but Harry yanked it back and folded his arms over his chest.  
  
"Why would it be great?" Harry snapped.  
  
"Because you hate Malfoy, and this is humiliating," said Ginny, her voice low, slow and her tone condescending. "Now you know he's a dirty pervert who likes having his way with men."  
  
Harry flushed brightly and shook his head.   
  
"What?" she asked, taking a step back. "Are you worried about his wife?"  
  
"No," said Harry flatly. She was so bewildered and for a moment Harry hated her for not knowing him at all. Was there really a time in which he would've laughed about this?   
  
But just as quickly as the anger began, it abated as Harry realized that she couldn't have known these things about him. He barely knew them about himself. He wasn't sure who he was anymore, but what he did know was that he needed to see Draco.   
  
"Then what is it?" asked Ginny, her voice high-pitched and panicked.  
  
"Because I've been fucking Malfoy."  
  
He watched her face, all of the stages of loss flickering through her expressions. Denial. Bargaining. Rage. Acceptance.  
  
"Get out," she said. Harry would always remember the flat toneless voice.   
  
He nodded and turned, heading back up the stairs from the cozy kitchen, mentally packing enough clothes to get him through a few nights at the Leaky. There was a crash of china against the doorframe and Harry was doused in warm tea.   
  
Stopping, Harry took off his glasses and cleaned them, then finished his trek up the stairs to pack his bags.  
  
\--  
  
Harry sat at the bar watching Tom drying glasses by hand, not really thinking much of it beyond the faint wonder if he was going to live out his days here at the Leaky. He hadn't given much thought to walking out, with no mind to where he was headed, but found himself in this familiar location, trading Galleons for the right to occupy a room that his bags were in, but he'd yet to visit. He sipped his pint, mind everywhere and nowhere, listening to the pleasant murmur of the pub around him. It was early enough in the evening that no one was tipsy and conversation was still convivial.  
  
A hush fell over the room just as Harry was surfacing from his thoughts, and he turned to see what the disruption was only to see the familiar glimmer of bright white hair on a man descending the decrepit stairs. His head was up, silver eyes meeting any that dared to look at him directly.   
  
"Draco!" Harry gasped, hopping up to his feet.   
  
The room turned to look at Harry, and then, as if it were a tennis match, all heads turned to Draco for a response.  
  
Smacking his lips in distaste, Draco glared imperiously at the hoi polloi, staring each one down until they returned to their conversation before he took the final few steps down the stairs, eyes locked with Harry's. "Potter."  
  
Though Harry was a bit stung by the cool response, he realized that his effusiveness probably put them both in an uncomfortable situation. Not that Harry cared overmuch about the social politics of anything, let alone drunkards in a tatty pub. He guessed that if Draco were fussed about it, he wouldn't be taking the seat next to him.   
  
There were a thousand questions Harry wanted to ask, but he was cut off by Draco's dramatic drawl, "Do you have anything that has not been pulled through the Thames?"  
  
Tom shot Draco an irritated glare.   
  
"Absinthe, then," said Draco, flicking his fingers in a gesture as to where he preferred it placed before him. It was there in an instant with a silver spoon on top, a plate of sugar cubes next to it and a tall glass of iced water.   
  
As Draco saw to pouring the cool water daintily over a few cubes of sugar he'd placed on the spoon, Draco said, "Come to see me in my disgrace, Potter?"  
  
Blinking, Harry said, "I'd no idea that you'd be here!" He felt dowdy and ordinary with a large, dark pint of something that probably  _had_  been pulled through the Thames.   
  
"Oh?" asked Draco. His eyes darted around for listeners to their conversation, and obviously not satisfied with the security of their possible conversation, he flicked out his wand to cast a muffling charm around them. "I did not see your name attached to that article. I suppose you did something terribly honest that got you sent here by your lovely bride?"  
  
Harry blushed and looked down, clearing his throat. "She was mocking your…erm… fall from grace."  
  
Removing the spoon from the top of the glass, Draco took a sip of the milky green concoction. "She's hardly the only one," he said after his long sip.   
  
"I didn't expect to see you here. I really didn't. I take it you've been thrown out of the Manor?" asked Harry. He watched Draco worriedly. He'd heard things about absinthe, but Draco seemed to know what he was doing.  
  
Draco threw his head back in a haughty laugh. "Throw  _me_  out of  _Malfoy_  Manor? My house would eat her."  
  
Harry smiled at Draco, thinking it was an exaggeration. Then again… one never knew with dark wizards, and Draco didn't appear to be joking. "Oh."  
  
"I'm just giving her a couple of days to collect what she brought with her. I was fine with her staying, but I suppose disgrace is much for her delicate temperament. It's just as well. She drank too much, and I didn't care for her influence on Scorpius. Had I been advised of her weaknesses, I'd've never… well, that is neither here nor there," said Draco. In spite of his sharp tone, speaking his son's name softened his expression, and Harry saw the spark of pride and adoration in Draco's otherwise cold eyes. "He is a perfect child in spite of his mum. He takes after me."  
  
"How is he doing with all of this?" asked Harry. He finished his pint, but shook his head when Tom gave him a questioning look for another.  
  
Lifting his head to show off his pointy chin again, Draco said, "He is a Malfoy. He is strong in adversity." Then, after an extravagant wave of his hand, enhanced and loosened by another long sip of absinthe, Draco added, "Besides, anyone who would challenge him would wake in a bed of scorpions now, wouldn't they?"  
  
"What?" Harry sat up, his eyes widened in alarm. "How would that happen?"  
  
Draco shrugged elegantly and took another sip, brow perked and saucy grin in place. "Children are very resourceful when they need to be. I shouldn't be surprised if he learned a hex to do something of the sort."  
  
"And where would he have learned that?" asked Harry.  
  
The broad grin told Harry everything he needed to know about the source of that particular hex.  
  
"DRACO! That could get him expelled!"  
  
"Shh," said Draco, although the  _Muffliato_  was still firmly in place, and they had nothing to fear. "You sound like my mum."  
  
"Your mum has some good sense then. Why would you teach a child a hex like that?" Harry wondered if he might not enjoy another pint if the conversation was going to carry on like this. And people thought  _Harry_  was reckless!  
  
"Look, Potter, there are bullies at Hogwarts," said Draco, finishing his absinthe. "And I fully intend that my son be one of them."  
  
The statement explained so much about their early years. Harry could only shake his head and roll his eyes. "Look, I'll tell Albus to look out for him."  
  
"That'll go over well," said Draco.  
  
At Harry's look, Draco continued, "He has about as much use for your son as I did you."  
  
"I saved you several times!"  
  
"You almost killed me!"  
  
Sighing, Harry said, "But I never loosed scorpions in your bed!"  
  
Draco raised one finger to point at him, "You didn't know how."  
  
"You're impossible!" said Harry, although he couldn't help but grin. It felt good to talk to Draco, even if they were fighting. There was something familiar about it, although this was not the rough and tumble of school years. It was more relaxed and teasing. Whether it was the absinthe or their conversation, Draco looked much more at ease.   
  
"So, you see why I'm divorcing, then?" said Draco with a wry smile.   
  
"I'm pretty sure I'm going to be divorced, too," said Harry. He nodded to Tom for another pint.   
  
"You are also impossible," said Draco. When Harry played at being offended, Draco nudged him with his shoulder playfully.   
  
"I've heard that. Mostly from you," said Harry before chugging down half of his pint. He was feeling warm and pissed, and though his life was being uprooted, he was feeling optimistic about it.   
  
"I was the first." Draco pointed to his grey eyes with two fingers spread and said, "I have a keen insight into humanity."  
  
Harry was pretty sure Draco  _was not_  the first to have said that, and that the honor lay with his relatives, but he didn't feel the urge to point that out to Draco. Besides, Draco was laughing at himself, and the sound was musical, and all Harry could do was sit and admire him.   
  
Draco's laughter turned serious when he saw Harry staring at him, and he looked at him seriously. "So, where are you going to go?"  
  
"Haven't thought that far ahead," said Harry. He finished his pint and left it on the counter, looking at it for a long moment, but deciding against another. The future was wide open now. He could give real consideration to what he wanted. The news about his marriage would be out, and Harry didn't intend to keep anything secret. Revealing his association with the brothel would likely take the spotlight off of Draco, anyway. "I'm going to tell the  _Prophet_  that you weren't the only one at that establishment."  
  
"That's not very smart of you," said Draco, his expression the portrait of concern. "Not that I've ever associated cunning with you, in particular."  
  
Harry laughed. "It's  _honest_ , and… well… it's only fair. They'll stop talking about you that way, too, which would be good, right?"  
  
Draco set his hand on Harry's, not even checking to see if anyone was looking. "Don't do it for me, Potter. I can handle myself. This is hardly the first brothel scandal for the Malfoys, and I doubt it'll be the last."  
  
"Your da?" asked Harry. He looked down at Draco's hand on his. His hand was chilly from the absinthe, but it felt good there. Harry turned his hand over and closed his other hand over Draco's small, spindly fingers, trying to warm them.  
  
"Pfft. My father? No way. You saw my mum!"  
  
"But your wife…"  
  
"Old what's-her-name? Unremarkable. Good breeding stock. Father lucked out, is all. And he wasn't really…"  
  
"Gay?" asked Harry, looking at Draco curiously.   
  
"As you say," said Draco, looking dismissive. "In any case, I suppose if you're going to fall on the sword for me, I should have to keep you."  
  
"What?" Draco had slipped his hand away and had taken Harry by the wrist, heading towards the stairs.   
  
"You'll stay with me. At the Manor. When I reclaim it. But for now… I've grown quite tired of the scenery and would prefer we retire alone so that I might properly reward you for your valor," said Draco as he pulled Harry by the arm up the stairs.  
  
"What?" asked Harry. His pulse was racing as he realized what Draco was saying. He would have somewhere to stay. Somewhere to live, and he could be with Draco, which he'd never considered even a possibility. The notion thrilled him.  
  
"I'm going to take you upstairs and ride you like a wild horse," said Draco slowly, as if Harry were dense. "Then tomorrow, we'll pick up your things and move you into the Manor. You'll have your own wing if you want it, but my door will remain open."  
  
After a languid pause where Draco looked insecure at the prospect of Harry turning him down, he added, "If you want that."  
  
Harry felt like he might burst from pleasure, and that was even before being ridden. He nodded before he could form words and said, "I would love that."


End file.
